Page 2 of June: Jess' Story

He walks two doors down, unlocks his front door, then disappears into his solitary world.

Seven paces. Five or six seconds.That’s the distance from my parking spot to my front door. That’s all that separates me from my family. But that’s just whatliterallyseparates us. There’s a lot more to it than that. There’s worlds and lifetimes between us. Fuck, a whole other universe because I live…on a different plane than most people.

Most people live in the “normal” world. That’s where Amy does her living, on the normal plane. I liked that about her at first. Gave her a certain innocence.

Me, though? I live on my own plane of existence. No one else there but me. Sometimes I can slip into her world with her, or maybe it’s just that our existences intersect briefly.Two planes intersecting at a point for the briefest of moments in time before veering off in opposite directions.

Those times are fleeting and rare, but that’s what Amy stays for – the rare times I slip into her world of existence and act like I’m free.

I can count the number of times it’s happened on one hand.

It’s four.

And fuck, if it wasn’t bliss each time. But just like a demon escaping hell, you gotta go back eventually, and I always do. I slip away from her and slide back into my singular existence.

We might have been a mistake.Hell, my whole life feels like a mistake sometimes.

Staring at the brown painted front door, I try to get myself right, for them, but fuck if I don’t hate coming back.

Nothing is as bad as the first day. I mean, it never really gets “better,” butthis, the first day, is always the worst. The first “hey.” The first hug. From there it just spirals. Or maybe I spiral because after the first apprehensive hello, I’ll remember that neither of us ever really knew each other in the first place. And I’ll realize it wasn’t just the distance of the latest rotation, it’s just who we both are. And now we know each other even less, because I’m outthere, doing, living, working, fighting. And Amy is just — at home. Being a mom. And doesn’t that just make me the asshole? Is that all I think sheis? That’s all she does?

I’m sure she’s busy living life — her own life — but I don’t care most days to know what she does. So now that makes me the assholeanda shitty fucking husband.Not that that comes as any surprise considering where I came from.

And that’s not even including Tally. What about her?

I’m surprised by the front door swinging open revealing Amy, staring at me, holding our daughter in her arms. When I look at her, it feels like maybe I’m seeing her for the first time.No, that’s not it.It’s that I’m looking into the eyes of a stranger.Fuck, that makes me feel some sort of way. But definitely not sad. I definitely don’t feel the same way she’s looking back at me now.

“Hey,” I say, tentatively.

She looks away, avoiding eye contact. That’s supposed to be my M.O., not hers. It’s pretty fucking telling, though. And it’s not because I know her so intimately either. It’s because reading people is essential to my work. ‘Stay alert, stay alive’ doesn’t just refer to your surroundings.

So when she tucks her bottom lip in and fights a tremble, trying to hide it by adjusting Tally in her arms, I start to get a little nervous.Not as nervous as I probably should be, though…

When she doesn’t say anything a second later, I step towards her. “Amy?” I bring myself closer to her physically, but there’s still a barrier there. On my side. But for the first time, I feel it on her end as well.

“We’re leaving, Alex.” She’s quiet, but there’s a strength to her voice. It surprises me, and I’m almost…proud?

“Where are you headed?” I ask like she might be going to the grocery store, but I know that’s not the case. First thing I noticed when the front door opened was Amy’s sad eyes, second thing I noticed was Tally’s shoes were on, third thing I noticed was the suitcases and Pack ‘n Play lined up against the wall.

“To my mom’s.” She raises her eyes back to me. Same sadlook, yet she’s resolved about this. It’s the most life I’ve seen in her in a year and a half. Not since I left Amy with a 6-week-old infant in a new town for three months, where I came back to find her slightly lifeless. A bit subdued.I know. It was fucked up. I know it.

“For how long?” Again, I’m asking when I already know.

“Indefinitely.”Good for her.I just nod.

“What about Tally?” I see the fear flash across her eyes, and then it’s there in her voice.

“Tallulah is coming with me.” No surprise there. I’m rarely here, but that’s when the faintest hint of pain starts cropping up. Tally is still my girl.

She’s being sweet right now, no clue her little world is crumbling on the threshold of this brown condo. She’s tucked against Amy’s side, tugging gently at her mother’s hair, making smiley faces at me. But she doesn’t reach out for me. I notice that. I know it’s my fault. Never around enough.

“Why’d you wait?” She knew I’d be home today. It’s a Sunday. Would’ve made more sense to leave on a Friday, avoid traffic and a confrontation entirely. Honestly, a letter would have sufficed.

This time it’s anger that flashes across her face. It’s pointed at me, and I have to admit it’s well deserved. That was a dick thing to say.

“I wasn’t going to just leave you without saying anything…a-and I thought you’d want to say goodbye to Tally. At least…” Her tone is…unkind. Or maybe it’s wrecked.Fuck, maybe it’s both.

I don’t want to say goodbye to Tally. Not because I don’t do goodbyes, but now that the likelihood of them leaving ishitting, I don’t want Tally to go.I know, I didn’t say Amy, but they’re a package deal.